Scorpion Sting
by InsaneAndHappyAboutIt
Summary: "Now, stepping back on the tainted soil of Hemlock Grove his mouth filled with bile. The very air felt like smoke in his lungs. To think Peter had once hoped this place could be home…" WARNING: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT!, M/M, DUB-CON, WHORING FOR MONEY, BLOOD DRINKING, BAREBACKING, HURT NO COMFORT! Enjoy! XD


_**Scorpion Sting**_

The gods above knew he'd been through a lot in his life. Shit, he'd probably had more of a life in the last decade than some have in half a century. He'd suffered and been hurt, he'd loved and been loved and he'd tasted freedom so intoxicatingly sweet anything short of it was suffocating. Now, stepping back on the tainted soil of Hemlock Grove his mouth filled with bile. The very air felt like smoke in his lungs. To think Peter had once hoped this place could be home… All he had to do was glance at the looming mansion blocking the light of day to know how wrong he'd been. This place, this fucking shithole had taken everything from him and now it was doing it again.

First it was Letha, the only person bar family he could say he'd loved with a passion so strong it could start forest fires. Second it was his child. Peter knew he wasn't related to the little life but he'd seen it grow day by day, nurtured by a mother's love and he'd loved it too. Maybe he was rash or a little drunk on the kool-aid but he genuinely saw a future with the three of them as a family. He'd been told some dreams felt so real one could feel teeth marks on their skin come morning and this one went straight for the jugular. He was still reeling from his abrupt wakeup call and the one person who had helped pick up the pieces was in danger of being taken away as well. Well fuck that, he was not letting Hemlock Grove take Lynda. He was determined to do anything to ensure her freedom, fight, sacrifice, even beg.

Peter sucked in a deep breath but no amount of procrastination could make what had to be done any easier. He raised his fist and rang the bell of the one door most likely to slam in his face. He deserved it but it would still hurt. No answer but he knew the owner was home. He could smell him. He could feel him watching so he knocked again and this time the lock clicked. True to his character, Peter wanted to run away but he'd done that once and it hadn't worked out very well. This time he was going to be brave, if not for himself then for Lynda. With one step he was inside the dragon's den and that intense stare he felt even through the walls of the house were as palpable as hands tightening around his throat. Peter vaguely heard the door shut behind him but he couldn't look away from the Upir standing at the top of the stairs. It made every muscle in his body tighten. It made the wolf inside stir despite it being a Luna Rea.

Whatever half-assed plan he'd been turning over and over inside his head immediately vanished. He swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing like a lead weight. A tidal wave of pure, unadulterated shame twisted his insides with enough ferocity to physically hurt. The way Roman was looking at him sucker punched every other emotion out of him bar that all-consuming guilt. He'd only seen a nest of vipers once but he could still recall the sleek, serpentine bodies twisting and knotting around each other and that was what he felt inside him. His eyes dropped. The only thing he could hope for now was enough time having past for Roman to at least hear his apology.

'Look I know things were bad when I split-'

'Fuck you.'

'Just hear me out.'

'Not interested.'

'Please!' The desperation in his voice was unmistakable, to both of them.

'We're done.' Peter tried not letting it show how painfully the finality of those two words cut him. He failed.

'Lynda's in jail!'

'Sounds like she fucked up. Not my problem.'

'She was always good to you. She's not gonna make it in there.' His voice cracked slightly. Whatever false bravado he'd shielded himself behind shattering at the thought of his mother in jail. All alone and defenceless where her considerable street smarts would be of no use to her.

'What do you want me to do about it?' Roman's head tilted, contemplatively. Peter had a strong feeling the Upir already guessed why he was there but he would make him work for it. Roman had always had a sadistic streak to him, Peter was aware, but the way he was regarding him now was on a whole new psychotic level. Something had happened while he was gone, something very bad and his instincts never lied to him.

'I need money.' Every word was acid on his tongue. 'To hire a lawyer.'

'So you came here to beg.' It wasn't a question and Peter heard the smirk in the taunt before he saw it. He nearly snapped back that Romanceks don't beg but that was exactly what he was doing.

'Can you please loan me twenty thousand dollars? I'll pay you back.' He had to force the request through gritted teeth.

'I always liked your mother. She backed cookies. My mother never backed cookies.' For the briefest of seconds Peter indulged hope but he knew Roman better than that. 'I could shoot you the dough… but I'm not gonna do that. I'm not giving you shit.'

'Maybe you forgot I saved your life.' It was the last card in his deck. If this didn't work then he was completely at Roman's mercy and he didn't see much of that virtue in his once friend.

'Shelly saved yours.'

'I think about her all the time. She might still be out there-'

'She died alone.' Peter's spirits sunk even lower if that were possible. Roman held such conviction in his tone it was truly disheartening. It was the tone of a dead man. 'And when Letha died-' Roman began descending the stairs, each step punctuating his crushing denunciation. Peter had to physically battle the impulse to flinch back. '-and I needed you, you tucked your dick between your legs and ran away like the little bitch you are!' Roman stopped inches away from his face. Peter could see the pain and betrayal in his watering eyes and it broke his heart. How could he claim to have loved this man when he'd wronged him so? But this was not about them, though he doubted Roman saw it that way. 'Get out of my house.'

'Roman, please-'

'Get out of my house!' And that was that. Peter could see any further talk was useless. There was no changing Roman's mind, not when it came to helping him. He'd waited too long to say sorry. Fuck, he shouldn't have had to say sorry in the first place but the Upir was right… He'd run away like a coward.

'Sorry…' Peter's back was already turned and the apology was barely a whisper upon the breeze. He half hoped Roman hadn't heard him but hope was something unfamiliar to him lately.

'Wait.' Peter halted and half turned to look at Roman who continued to stare at him, through him. There was something new in his eyes and it frankly scared the shit out of Peter. A wiser man would have said fuck this and ran for the hills but he'd never been accused of being wise. 'Come back here.' Peter could feel the Upir's influence subtly unravelling the seams of his subconscious but he wasn't a normal human. If Roman wanted to compel him he would have to work harder. He returned to stand before the lord of the manor anyway.

'What do you want? For the money?' Roman took a step closer, not answering at first. He raised a perfectly manicured hand to Peter's mouth, his thumb moving softly along his upper lip. It unnerved Peter how much he'd missed that touch. That nest of vipers inside him began constricting again except this time it wasn't entirely unpleasant. There was a spark of something else amidst the dread and nausea. Lust.

'You always had such a pretty mouth. A liar's mouth.' Roman pushed the thumb inside his mouth, pressing it along his tongue. 'This wicked, wicked gypsy tongue could charm the pants off the prudes and the whores. I'm guessing it served you well when you needed a quick buck.' Peter felt his skin heat up with rage and shame but he kept silent. 'If you want that buck from me now, you'll have to work hard for it. I'm not easily satisfied.' Roman pulled his hand back with an obscenely wet pop and stepped back, letting Peter consider his indecent proposal. Like he had a choice?

'You want me to whore myself for the money? Are you really that fucked in the head?' Roman only smiled at him and Peter felt like he was going mad. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, desperately searching for a way out, any other way out. There was none if he wanted that top lawyer for him mother. He needed the money and Roman could give him what he needed. It was chum change to him too but Roman wanted to make him hurt, to see him squirm as repentance for leaving Hemlock Grove.

'So what'll it be Peter? Are you going to walk out, pride intact but empty pockets or get on your knees?' Peter clenched his fists, every Romani curse running through his mind, but his knees bent and a hollow thud rung through the hall as they hit the floor. He looked up at Roman, a final plea in his eyes but it was pointless. The other man was unbuckling his belt as he casually walked towards the pliant wolf. 'Good choice.'

Peter stared at the floor, waiting for Roman to reach him. If he didn't look in those mesmerizingly beautiful eyes he could pretend this was just another job in a dark alley. As pathetic as it was, he still held some love for the Upir but he didn't know if that fragile emotion would survive the abuse Roman had in store for him. Suddenly his head was pulled back harshly, his scalp burning where the roots of his hair strained against the skin. Roman glared down at him, his lips drawn in a thin line as he pulled harder on his hair.

'You're going to look at me the whole time. I want you know exactly how much I missed you.' Peter felt the heat of Roman's naked erection on his cheek and the smell was intoxicatingly familiar. There was something seriously wrong with him because he felt himself getting hard. He opened his mouth and let Roman guide the tip between his lips, maintaining the desired eye-contact, not that he had a choice with the hand still fisted in his long locks.

Peter didn't have much room to move so he relaxed, anticipating the Upir's next move. Roman stared as he began bucking his hips, driving his erection down Peter's throat with no finesse whatsoever. The werewolf felt his eyes roll back as he struggled to breathe through the onslaught and the grip on his hair tightened. He made an effort to focus but he was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Roman had been harsh during their sex before but this was brutal. It was punishment and a part of Peter clearly thought he deserved it because he didn't even consider fighting back. He still needed the money, yes, but this went past that. Peter needed Roman, everything else became secondary.

Suddenly his lungs were flooded with air and he gulped down greedily to the point where he couldn't stop coughing. He was half aware of Roman stroking his cock, clearly finding his suffering very arousing, before he felt ribbons of white cum hit his cheeks and lips. He felt it run down his chin and Roman let go of his hair. Peter collapsed on all fours, coughing harshly until he managed to even his ragged breathing.

'That was good but not twenty thousand good.' Peter managed to scowl through the curtain of shaggy hair falling over his eyes.

'Fuck you Roman. Why are you doing this?' That was the entirely wrong thing to say and an ugly expression crossed the Upir's features. Before Peter could react he felt a kick in his chest and he was shoved on his back. He was ready to spring into a fight but that same foot was pressing down on his sternum. It pinned him down and every time he tried to fight it Roman applied more pressure until he got the point. If he didn't behave, bones will start to break.

'Fuck you Peter for asking that. You. Left. Me. Alone! What? Did you think you were the only one suffering from Letha's death? I lost Shelly too! At least you had your mother but I had nobody. I only had you left and you fucking ran away. Not so much as a fuck you note! Shit, my mother has more empathy than that and she's as loving as road-kill! So fuck you Peter. You owe me.'

While Roman was talking Peter felt the fight leave him. Damn, he'd been a real asshole. It wasn't like he hadn't considered Roman when he decided to leave, hell he'd nearly stayed because of him, but he was a gipsy. He was a tree with no roots, a wolf with no pack and a drifting breeze in the night. That's how he'd been raised and that's how he was ready to die. Then again, he had been willing to change for Letha and the baby… Had he faced Roman before vanishing that night he would have done it for him too. In that regard he guessed the Upir was right. He did owe him and he went still, signalling his willingness to pay his debts.

'Roman, please.' What was he begging for this time? Peter wasn't sure he knew or wanted to know but Roman seemed to understand. He smiled cruelly as he removed the pressure, moving his foot so he could grind on Peter's semi-hard cock. Even through his tattered jeans the bulge was hard to miss. Roman didn't press hard enough to hurt but it made Peter gasp. It was enough for him to finally understand that what he had with the Upir, this perverse relationship of theirs, was not something he could run away from. It was stupid to even think he'd tried. He could have ended on the other side of the world and the pull of Hemlock Grove… No, the pull of Roman Godfrey would have reeled him right back.

'Guess you also missed me.' Roman's voice sounded sure of itself, cocky even, but he wasn't fooling Peter. He certainly didn't miss the sigh of relief when he subtly nodded. 'So why did you leave? Never mind, it doesn't make a fucking difference. You left and that's all that matters.'

Before Peter could offer some half-assed apology Roman cut him off by reaching for his belt and yanked it loose. The gypsy glanced between the other man's fingers to his determined face, eyes widening as understanding dawned on him. He began shaking his head in mute silence but Roman was already pulling his jeans down his thighs, removing his boxers along with them. The momentary shock of being suddenly naked before the Upir paralysed Peter long enough for Roman to settle between his legs in such a way that when he began putting up a genuine fight he could do little to distance himself from the other.

'Fucking stop Roman! I don-t, I don't want this! Please!' Peter struggled under Roman, clawing his fingers and trying to scratch at the other man's face but without the aid of the wolf he was vastly inferior in terms of physical strength to the bloodsucker. Roman pinned his arms by his side with laughable ease and Peter had never felt so helpless in his life. It terrified him and he desperately sought the aid of his beast but for reasons he couldn't yet comprehend the wolf was silent. It was like he recognised a kinship with the other predator and was happy enough to yield for the time being but Peter's human brain didn't make those sort of instinctual connections. He was scared and hurt and yes, aroused. The cocktail of contradictory emotions swirled inside his skull and it was making him dizzy.

'Don't lie to me Peter. I can smell how much you want this.' And indeed, when Roman pushed his once more hard cock against Peter's it send a tendril of electric pleasure up his spine. Damn his traitorous body!

Peter gasped, suddenly finding the fight ebb out of his limbs and Roman thrusts against him again, this time drawing a needy noise out of his throat. Peter was slow to realise it at first but his fear at being overpowered and helpless also melted away at some point, leaving behind a shockingly sharp hunger. Roman must have seen something change in the werewolf's eyes because he stopped holding him down, moving the palm of his free hand down the heaving, hot canvas of Peter's abdomen instead, stopping to trace the G tattooed across the ribs before descending lower.

Peter completely forgot about the money and the pretence of why he was doing this. His skin was on fire and he was even more powerless to resist his hunger for the Upir's touch than the sway of the full moon. It was sharp and visceral and he knew Roman felt it too. In a needy attempt to connect them in a more finite way Peter arched his neck, seeking Roman's mouth with his own but the other wasn't having it. He denied the other boy by holding his throat down, forcing Peter's head against the floor none too gently. Clearly he was still too angry at the gypsy's betrayal to indulge in such an act of affection. What they were about to do was going to be painful, rough and cruel and there was nothing Peter could do to stop it. The wolf understood that and finally Peter did too. Surprisingly he was fine with it. Maybe he though he deserved it or maybe he had a secret masochist streak but Peter didn't try to stop it.

'Get on all fours.' Peter blanched at the order, more than a little reluctant to get into that degrading position. He shook his head, his eyes doing the pleading for him but Roman was implacable. He reached for his hair and grabbed a fistful, bringing his head up so they were nose to nose. For a crazy moment Peter thought he would use his mind control ability on him but that would be too easy. That would give Peter an excuse to deny taking responsibility for any of his actions because both already knew he would do as told. This hesitancy was a show put on for his own benefit so he could salvage some tattered remain of his pride but Roman wasn't willing to give him even that little. 'On all fours. Now!'

Peter lowered his eyes in defeat as Roman moved back, giving him the space to turn and present his pert ass to the Upir. The pressure of large hands against his hips nearly had him cower away but he was resolved not to give Roman the satisfaction. The rich boy wasn't the only one who could be stubborn! What unnerved Peter even more than being as vulnerable as one could be, was his inability to see what Roman was doing. They'd always had this uncanny ability to read and understand each other with a mare look but now Peter felt like he was surrounded by darkness and the panic began to resurface to the foremost of his mind. The only thing keeping it from completely taking over was the heat radiating from Roman's hands on his skin. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, Peter was still very aroused.

'This is exactly how I always pictured you, on all fours begging to be fucked. Just like a bitch.' Finally Peter felt the wolf growl in irritation. There were only so many times he was willing to ignore being compared to a dog. He was about to snap at the Upir but another sound reverberated through the large hallway instead. The slap had been sudden and sharp, pushing a strangled gasp out of Peter's slack jaw. Peter had never been into this sort of play during sex but when Roman delivered another smack against his reddening ass he couldn't deny the lusty noise rolling off his tongue. The growling of his wolf hushed inside him, leaving Peter all alone again to try and make sense of his fucked up reactions to Roman's ministrations. 'You like this. Why am I not surprised?' Peter could almost hear the bemused grin in Roman's voice and it pissed him off but what could he say in his defence? His skin was almost vibrating with lust and Roman slapped him again, answering his silent need.

'Fuck… Roman-' Peter bit his lip, stopping himself from almost asking the Upir to hurry up. He had to remind himself that he was only doing this for the money and he was not enjoying it at all. Yeah right… The beast would have laughed if it could.

'Beg for it.' Of course Roman wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. Of-fucking course. Peter felt red hot anger ignite in his chest and he gritted his teeth.

'Fuck you.' He was not going to beg. He would rather chew his own tongue off than beg.

'Why hesitate now? You did it before, or did you already forget?' Peter hadn't but it was one thing begging for money and another begging for cock. He also understood this was just another one of Roman's twisted games meant to drag him even lower through the dirt. What he couldn't figure out was why the wolf continued to watch silently rather than take an interest. He'd nearly ripped out throats for far less but when Peter went searching for the murderous fangs he found nothing. Did Roman have that much power over him? Was he already accepted by the beast to the point where Peter's feelings were of no consequence? Fuck, that was so messed up the gypsy couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around it. Destiny was going to have a field day with it but Peter quickly dislodged her from his mind, not about to start thinking about his cousin's approval. She would hardly have a problem with the whoring but she certainly made her feeling about the Upir and Peter's growing closeness painfully clear. He hated to admit it but Peter was beginning to think she was right. Surprise, surprise…

A wet sound drew his scattered attention back to his current predicament and he turned to glance over his shoulder. He never got the chance as Roman's fist was back in his hair and turned his head back. He soon had his answer in spite of this however, when the tip of a wet finger began probing at his twitching hole. Peter cursed, this time actually ready to crawl away but Roman was holding him in place by the hair and he was trapped. He drew in a shuddering breath as the finger tunneled its way inside him. In all honesty Peter had expected Roman to go in dry and rough but he worked him open with surprising care. Spit didn't make for the best lubricant but Peter was grateful for even that little because he'd seen Roman's package and he doubted he could take that monster dry, not if he wanted to walk straight for the next week…

'Fine, be that way but you're still going to beg. By the time we're done you won't be able to think of anything else except my dick up your ass.' Peter shuddered from head to toe, the filthy promise doing all sorts of nasty things to him.

'Modesty was never your strongest quality…' But despite his brave taunt, a part of Peter believed Roman. He was already reacting to the briefest of contacts this much... Things could only get worse for him and Roman knew what he was doing. His many sexual conquests obviously gave him the confidence and experience to make good on his promise.

It was clear Roman had done this before from the way he twisted his finger, searching around the muscled wall relentlessly while thrusting knuckle deep inside the pliant heat. Peter had slept with a few guys himself but he'd never been on the receiving end. This was all uncharted territory but nobody would guess it from the way his hips bucked into the fingers, now two of them. He expected it to hurt more but he supposed pain was relative when one's bones broke and reformed every full moon. Plus, whatever burning discomfort he might have felt was instantly forgotten when Roman's pursuits were rewarded. As soon as his fingers slammed against that raised bundle Peter's arms nearly collapsed under him. For a brief second he genuinely saw stars and he bit the inside of his cheek with enough ferocity to draw blood or else he would have begged Roman for more right then and there.

'Why so quiet all of a sudden Peter? No more snarky remarks left?' That Upir fucker was having the time of his life and Peter yearned to snap something intelligible back but Roman wouldn't let him. It was like he could read his mind and every time he wanted to speak another well aimed thrust had him moaning instead. The pleasure was building inside the pit of his belly at a steady pace and Peter was already eager for more but he knew Roman would stay true to his word. He wouldn't do more than bring him to the edge of oblivion and keep him there until he begged. Peter considered reaching for his cock to take the edge off but an especially harsh yank of his hair stopped him. He couldn't see another way except to give in, pride be damned. So he did.

'Please Roman…' The words were a faint whisper but Roman's fingers stilled so he must have heard them. Peter wanted to whine for him to keep going but he had a sinking suspicion that would have the opposite effect. He was intimately familiar with the Upir's sadism…

'Sorry Peter but I didn't quite catch that.' Roman withdrew his hand completely, choosing to run the palm of his warm hand across Peter's flank.

'Fuck Roman, you heard me! Please, fuck me.' There was no denying his request this time and Peter would have to live the rest of his unnaturally long life knowing he'd begged Roman Godfrey for a lay.

'That didn't take long. Are you really that hungry for cock?' Peter flinched when the filthy question was whispered right against the shell of his ear. He could feel the pressure and warmth of the other man's chest against his back. Every heart beat seemed to travel through his own skin and match his own pulse and he arched a little, seeking to become even closer to Roman.

'Shut up. Just… Shut up.' What was the point of pretending anyway? They both knew it wasn't cock he was starved for but rather Roman's cock. Peter would have never allowed anyone else to degrade him like this for any reason, not even for Lynda, and the wolf would have devoured them for looking at him wrong. Yet what he shared with Roman defied explanation and they both understood this on a primal level. Love was a cheap sentiment compared to the gravitational force which doomed them to inescapably circle each other.

'Good boy.' Roman seemed satisfied with Peter's decision not to argue and he rewarded him with a press of his lips against the back of his throat. Considering what that mouth with those wicked teeth was capable of it made sense why alarm bells were ringing inside Peter's head. He'd known Roman was full Upir before he'd even entered the house, something about the scent of the place, but he felt no real fear. The wolf understood Roman might feed on him but he would never kill him. God, Peter hoped the wolf was right…

Peter turned to catch Roman's mouth in a kiss and this time he wasn't stopped. If anything Roman's grip on his hair guided his mouth to crush again his own. The angle wasn't right but Roman still managed to push his tongue against Peter's, drawing a breathy moan out of the gypsy. He swallowed a similar noise only much louder when he thrust his hips forwards, the head of his length moving easily inside the stretched tunnel. Roman kept his lips hovering just above Peter's, greedily swallowing all his noises of pleasure as he slowly inched forwards until he was fully engrossed in everything Peter. His scent, his body, his love. Roman wanted it all and nobody said no to a Godfrey.

Planting another lingering kiss against the corner of Peter's mouth, Roman drew back to get a better angle. After grabbing the trembling hips and licking his lips Roman began fucking Peter in earnest. Had this been a normal human he might have gone slower but he knew the werewolf could take it and from the appreciative yells Peter was making he was right. Roman himself was feeling this a lot more than he'd anticipated.

Anger, hurt and vengeance still clawed at his heart and there was something viscerally satisfying about dominating Peter to such a physical extent but he couldn't deny the lust and joy at feeling the other man close once more. He'd missed the subtle yet telling brushes of their fingers as they'd shared a cigarette back when their friendship seemed so easy. He missed the way his pulse quickened when Peter said something even hinting at suggestive. He'd missed that uniquely spicy and exotic scent which defined the roaming traveller so well. So yes, while he wanted to hurt Peter he also wanted to forgive. He would never admit this out loud but he now realized he needed that unreliable bitch in his fucked up life.

Suddenly, Roman had to taste. The impulse hit him like a punch in the gut and his mouth went bone dry. His ears filled with the drumming of Peter's pulse spliced with his positively pornographic moans. He fancied he could see the gypsy's blood traveling under his skin and Roman traced the thin pathways with his dark eyes. He grabbed his hair again and yanked Peter's neck back at a painful angle, forcing his back to bow under the strain. Peter made some sort of protesting yawl but Roman heard little past that adamant drumming. His hips never stopped but rather intensified in their assault, adding the loud noise of skin slapping skin to the insane mix.

Peter knew it was coming. The wolf mirrored Roman's hunger and a deep howl rumbled in his chest. He bared his throat as much as he could, offering his blood to the Upir, practically spitting on every lesson hammered into him by his people. If Nicolae could see him now he'd probably disown him after trashing him about for good measure. Well, they didn't feel what he was feeling. The wolf wouldn't be denied and contrary to everything his people thought they knew about Upirs apparently his internal beast wanted to be claimed. Peter doubted anyone, even Destiny, would believe him if he tried to explain later but he was already a Gadjo so what else were they going to do to him?

When Roman's teeth sunk into his flesh, ripping his skin like tissue paper, it was intense for both of them. The moment the first ruby drop coated the Upir's tongue, Roman felt like he was truly lost. Peter's blood was like nothing he'd ever tasted before. Like the man, it was spicy and exotic and sublime. He felt the liquid traverse from the body below him down his throat smoother than the best scotch and just as fiery. He was drunk on Peter and he moaned as he fed, feeling his climax approach with each bloody swallow.

Peter felt a sharp pain but it was gone so quickly it left no lasting impression at all. The unexpected pleasure far outweighed the hurt and his hips bucked harder against Roman in a frantic need to reach his own climax. Whenever Nicolae talked about the feeding habits of the Upir it was always synonymous with unimaginable pain and agony but that was not how Peter felt at all. Once more, he wasn't sure if that was true for all vampires or if Roman was different somehow. Frankly he couldn't imagine anything but disgust at the idea of Olivia biting him so it was probably the latter. Whatever the case, Peter couldn't stop gasping Roman's name as he felt the edges of his vision darken. He was sure Roman wouldn't feed on him to death but he was going to take as much as he could short of that. Finally his arms couldn't hold him upright anymore and Peter sprawled from the lack of strength. Roman's mouth dislodged from his throat for a second but he chased his prey and latched back on, aware in some recess of his mind that he had to stop or Peter would pass out.

When Roman came, it was a feeling so primordial it rocked his entire being. He didn't know if he had a soul but if he did he felt it crack like thunder. Without a doubt he'd never experienced anything like this with any of his previous lovers and in that seemingly never-ending moment Roman knew he was forever linked to the gypsy boy who wandered one day into his life and blew it apart like a tornado. Even if they spent the rest of their long lives tearing each other apart one thing was abundantly clear; they would be together. All those warring sentiments were perfectly understood and shared by Peter as his own intense orgasm shook every nerve in his body. They were both so utterly, so perfectly, so undeniably screwed.

Peter's fingers twitched as he tried to get himself back under control, his mind still swimming from the loss of blood. He felt Roman's harsh breathing on the nape of his neck as he pressed his forehead against his hair, breathing him in. The ragged gasping let him know Roman was as rattled by the experience as he was and he was glad of it. Nothing would have been crueller than the realization that he was the only one completely destroyed by what had started as a mean-spirited act of revenge but which ended being so, so much more.

Eventually Roman straightened up and eased out of Peter but not before giving his trickling wound one last languid swipe of his tongue. Peter was sorry at the loss but didn't have time to lament it too much as his knees turned to jelly much like his arms had and without Roman's support he collapsed, exhaustion draping over him like a suffocating blanket. He didn't care that he was slouched on the hard, cold floor with Roman's cum leaking down his thigh, Peter would have happily fallen asleep right there in front of the main entrance. He vaguely heard the sound of fabric being handled and gathered Roman was getting dressed. A second later his own bundled clothes were thrown carelessly at him and a foot nudged his side, rolling him on his back so he could look up at Roman. The Upir looked as imposing as ever as he towered over Peter, a curious expression on his face. Peter couldn't read it at all and that was strange for them. It didn't bode well, most likely for him.

'Get dressed and get the hell out of my house.' The words held all the warmth of ice and Peter actually shivered. It wasn't like he expected cuddles and kisses but he also didn't expect such a harsh dismissal. Despite knowing better, Peter couldn't help feeling like a cheap prostitute and now that Roman got his rocks off he was being shown the door.

'Seriously? Just like that?' Somehow he found enough energy to stand up and begin slipping his layers of clothes back on. The dismay was painfully obvious in his voice and a bitter smirk was Roman's reply. Peter felt his heart sink lower than the pits of hell. He knew that smirk. He knew it was Roman's defence mechanism and he knew whomever was unfortunate to be its target was about to be royally fucked.

'What did you expect? Did you imagine your hole was good enough to make me forget everything you've done to me? Excuse me, _didn't_ do for me. Too bad. You're not that good sweetheart.' Except he was but Roman was nothing if not a suave liar. Seeing the intense agony his words were causing Peter tore him up inside but there was so much anger mixed with the regret… Roman chose the cowardly way out and focused on his petty need to hurt Peter rather than explore the other multitude of far more complex emotions twisting his mind into knots.

'Roman-' Peter got his pants on but was bunching his shirt in front of him, holding it against his chest like history's flimsiest shield ever. He'd never felt ashamed of his nakedness before, even taking some pride in his exposition, but the way Roman was looking at him now made him feel so very vulnerable. The wolf wasn't a fan either but other than a fleeting grunt of displeasure it said nothing more on the matter. This was Peter's fight and he was alone.

'I'm not giving you the money either. You can just do as you did before, tuck your tail between your legs and fuck off. Maybe if you sell yourself on enough corners you'll get the twenty thousand. I recommend the motel off the interstate, I'm sure you know the one.' This was unnecessarily brutal, even for Roman, but he found he couldn't stop. It was like the more he dehumanised Peter the easier it was for him to think.

'You can't do this! I did what you wanted so please… Don't do this!' Peter was desperate but he subconsciously knew it was futile. Roman was too committed to punishing him to back up now.

'I can and I am. So? What are you waiting for? Get out.' His voice was implacable and unwavering, the complete opposite of how he felt. Roman understood that if Peter didn't leave right fucking now he wouldn't be able to keep the pretence up. He needed to hate the gypsy or he was going to lose his mind.

Peter looked at him for a long, silent moment before he hardened his own expression. He swallowed thickly, feeling his throat constrict painfully. The corners of his eyes were wet but he was not going to shed a single tear for the sadistic son of a bitch taunting him so callously. Still holding the remains of his clothes, Peter turned and left without saying another word. He hoped against all hope that Roman would call him back but the only sound accompanying his exit was the click of the door behind him.

Hemlock Grove's frozen wind lashed at his exposed skin and he imagined the cursed ground laughing at his stupidity. His jaw was shut so tightly it hurt and Peter held onto enough dignity to walk to his car rather than run, just in case Roman was looking. Finding strength from who knows where, Peter managed to drive far enough so the mansion was out of sight before he had to pull over. He tasted salt on his lips before he realised the hot trails down his cheeks were his tears. He couldn't see Destiny like this and honestly he wasn't sure he could even drive without crashing into the nearest tree. He was wrung dry and at some point he passed out, his forehead pressed against the steering wheel while the menacing wind continued to howl outside his car.

Roman didn't fare much better. He had been staring after Peter, watching the gypsy leave. He could tell the other was pretending to stand tall, his steps too calculated to be natural and he had to remind himself several time that he didn't give a shit. He was the scorpion after all. He didn't care that he'd nearly drunk Peter dry and sent him packing like an undesirable miscreant. He didn't care that he'd lied and tricked Peter, keeping the money even though throwing a few thousands away meant nothing to him. He didn't care that Peter's pride which had once shone so bright in those beautiful blue eyes was shattered because of him. He didn't care so why was everything hurting so much? Roman slouched against the wall, burying his head into his hands. The same hands he'd used to punish Peter minutes ago. Fuck, he could still smell him on his skin and taste him on his tongue.

'Sheeet…' But there was no echoing response to lighten his burden. Only unforgiving silence.


End file.
